


Luminaries

by Tokkida



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Freeform, M/M, Spiritual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 19:25:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5427800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tokkida/pseuds/Tokkida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Realizations on a dark, desert highway.  Repost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Luminaries

The inky, night sky seemed absolutely endless, stretching out around them for miles and miles as the rental car sped toward its next destination.  The ebony canopy was lifeless, looming storm clouds shielding the twinkling stars from making their appearance to shine their splendor down across the barren desert. 

Another lonely stretch of highway. 

Another mundane circus act the next evening. 

Another forgettable hotel room in another forgettable town. 

Another lonely night in a frigid bed.

It seemed as if this was all there was anymore.  Just a broken record of a day repeating itself like a cheap 80’s movie, scratching deeper and deeper under their skin while the crimson tide seeped freely from the gaping wounds it left behind.

The cabin of the Focus was eerily quiet, save for the _whoosh_ of gratefully cool air filtering in through the cracked windows.  Bray sat statue-like, eyes focused intently on the stretch of pavement before them, the cat-eye reflectors glinting in the high-beams and adding somewhat of a replacement sparkle to his otherwise dead orbs.  His gaze flickered toward the passenger seat once or twice, heart falling at his partner’s grim expression, the dried blood flecked around his nostrils, the jagged split running across the other man’s lips, the purple rings that fell heavily beneath his weary eyes.  He tentatively reached up and traced trembling fingers against his own cheek with a soft sigh, electricity pulsing through his veins as he pressed against the rapidly forming bruise that marred his tanned flesh.  It was sure to be a sight in the morning.

Another day, another argument.  As their Cirque du Soleil lives repeated, so did their petty quarrels turned full-blown wars.  Two ferocious beasts clawing for the same dominance.  Two stars vying to outshine the other in the night sky.  Two helpless souls cast from the same cracked mold.

A ticking time bomb.

A toxin inhaled and spreading throughout your bloodstream.

A cancer, festering and fatal.

A ragged breath escaped the passenger’s firm line of a mouth, and Bray cringed inwardly.  _Surely a cracked rib this time_.  Fate has a funny way of working out.  It’s as if the goddess enjoys playing her sick, twisted little games, the proverbial red string of fate connecting the two pulling tighter and tighter, cutting off any circulation and stealing the shaky breaths from their lungs.

_But was it fate that caused this chemical connection, or just pure, unadulterated **need**?_

_When did lust turn to love?  When did love turn to hate?  When did hate turn to fear?_

These ostensibly endless questions spun around in Bray’s skull like a top, never seeming to stop as the pointed tip bore a gnarly hole through his conscience.

The bearded man sighed heavily, stormy blues returning their focus to the highway stretching out before them.  Save for the few wandering travelers they passed, the men were alone, left to stew in their racing thoughts.  Bray’s gaze slowly drifted toward the arid land around them, beholding the beauty of Mother Gaia and her fiery arms.  Formations of sandstone dotted the landscape, their jagged peaks jutting out like beacons to meld into the ebony heavens, stealing the somber man’s breath in their beauty.  A flash of lightning appeared on the horizon, illuminating the sky in an eerie, yellowish hue, and Bray cursed softly, willing the storm to delay until they had reached the safety of the next city.  The desert was barren of life, something that both once treasured, but gold turns to ashes in the palms of dying men.

The auburn beside him exhaled another pained breath and gingerly pulled the lapels of his leather jacket further up his neck, partially obscuring the garishly ten-digit shaped choker of a bruise from view.  The sight of his own handiwork hit Bray like a punch to the gut, and his anchor-like stomach dropped as nauseating pangs of guilt stole the air from his lungs.

_When did this become a daily ritual?_

_When did chaste kisses turn to wanton lacerations?_

_When did this already fucked up relationship turn into a contest of strength?_

_When did the Everlast logo become emblazoned across their battered hearts?_

Another bolt of lightning danced across the sky, and Bray glanced over at his passenger, terror flashing in his eyes as twin trails of briny tears glowed in the harsh light.  A perfect reflection of his own.  With a crank of the steering wheel, he brought the rental to the side of the deserted highway, the tires grating noisily against the rumble strip in their exit.  Shifting into park, he shut the engine off before reaching up to scrub tiredly at his weathered face.  A rough grunt of confusion escaped the other man’s tightly pressed lips, and Bray dropped his hands into his lap with another heavy sigh.  _It’s now or never… just one tiny push._

“Dean, I-“

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Those five simple words washed over Bray like a spray of napalm, and he gasped quietly, heart thudding so strongly it seemed to be on the verge of escaping his rapidly tightening chest.

“What?” he questioned dumbly, even though Dean’s statement was completely inevitable.

“I-I can’t… no, I _won’t_ be your punching bag anymore.”

“Dove,”

“Don’t fucking call me that!” Dean snapped, icy blues boring straight into Bray’s soul.  “Roman was right.  I don’t deserve to be treated like a dog just for your sick kicks.  I-I’m worth more than some two-dollar whore.  At least, I thought I was to you,” he ended on a whisper, hot tears rolling down his cheeks to splatter against the soft leather of his lapel.

“Dea-“

“No!  J-just let me fucking finish, Jesus Christ,” the scruffy man pleaded, absolutely exasperated.  He ran a trembling hand through his wild curls, trying to smooth the unruly auburn mess before giving up with a huff of defeat.  “I’ve been listening to you for so long, now it’s time for _you_ to listen to _me._ ”

Bray cautiously nodded in acknowledgement, not daring to release another breath until the enraged man had spoken his peace.

“I thought if I gave into this fucking feeling that I’d be free,” Dean continued, “Just us against the world, the wind at our backs.  It was wonderful, Bray,” he sighed, a hiccup of a sob caught in his throat, “it was absolutely _amazing_.  Until… until I started to resent you.”

The larger man’s heart ached at his lover’s pained confession, and he screwed his eyes shut, not even bearing to witness the absolutely heartbroken expression that flooded Dean’s once-radiant sapphires.

“And I think you feel the same.”

The pair let the statement wash over them in a hush.  When, oh when had they become such monsters?  Such carnivorous beasts that clawed and gnashed and tore the meat from the bone, leaving the hollow husks of two dying stars in their wake?  Were they always, since birth, destined to become the sun and moon, fighting for dominance over the heavens, brawling for the one pleasure that evaded them for fear of the inevitable?

“You’re killing me, Bray.”

The first drop of rain pelted the windshield like a bullet, thunder cracking the sky in two, echoing like a gunshot and announcing the storm’s final arrival.  As quickly as the first pearl rolled across the heat-fogged glass, the clouds burst at their silver seams, quenching the arid desert with their tears.  The splatter of raindrops against his parched skin chilled Bray to the bone, and he shivered slightly.  Tension hung in a thick fog, suffocating the two men as if they were held below the surface, fresh soil piling higher and higher above them until they were nothing more than a distant memory.  And oh, how the thunder rolled, the sparse weeds littering the side of the highway bending under the wind’s unforgiving force.

Mother Gaia wept.

The passenger-side door creaked open, and Dean slid out into the tempestuous night, his boots squelching through the drowned Earth in his leave.  Bray absentmindedly reached out to stop the auburn but fell short, watching the man’s retreating back with a slow, sad shake of his head. 

When had they become so distant, like far off galaxies?

Like two comets dancing a celestial tango around the other, never quite meeting but eternally intertwined?

“Dean, please!” Bray shouted over the gale, his plea drowned out by the deafening downpour.  His own boots slipping over the pavement, he raced toward his lover, hot tears rolling down his cheeks and mixing with the chilly drops that pelted his face.  “Dean!”

The scruffy auburn halted in his stride but didn’t turn, instead waiting for the larger man to catch up.  “Just leave, Bray,” he muttered over his shoulder, proceeding in his lethargic pace.  He let the wind guide him, the lightning crackling overhead like jagged spider webs.  “Leave me here to rot.  ‘s no different than staying with _you._ ”

The bearded man reached out to place a warm hand on the other’s slumped shoulder, heart cracking in two as Dean flinched away from the undeniably undesired contact.  “Dean,” he whimpered, “please.  Let’s talk about this.”

“That’s all you fucking do, Bray!” the auburn snapped, spinning on his heel and throwing his hands up in frustration.  “When I’m not listening to you drone on about your dead sister, you’re rambling about the stars or fate or some other supernatural bullshit.  And when I’m not listening to your asinine ramblings, I’m either your fuck-toy or your punching bag!  So, _what the fuck_ do you want from me?  You _really_ didn’t think I’d get tired of this shit?  Tired of being nothing more than the scum on the bottom of your fucking boot?”  Drenched in the tears of Mother Gaia, Dean felt absolutely liberated, free to fly off into the thunderous heavens, to soar as his maker had intended.  It was _incredible_.  “I refuse to do this anymore.”

A bold flash of lightning illuminated the sky, and Bray sunk to his knees in the soggy dirt, head bowed and strings of soaked chestnut shielding his cracked expression like a widow’s funeral veil.  Dean screwed his eyes shut, fighting back against the briny tears in futile struggle, before joining his lover on the ground.  He tentatively reached forward and pushed the man’s tresses back, cupping his bearded jaw in both of his hands.  Absentmindedly, his thumbs caressed the wiry bristles, pleasant memories flooding back to him in a flurry of mixed emotion.

“Bray,” Dean whispered, silently pleading for the man to meet his soft gaze, “I would follow you into the depths of hell if it meant that I was your equal.  You told me that we would be kings, sitting atop our empire as the world fell around us.  But was I truly ever anything more to you than just a pawn?” He closed his eyes for a moment, seeming to weigh the words on his tongue.  “When did we become monsters?”

Bray sucked in a shaky breath, the humid air absolutely suffocating.  He let out a bitter chuckle, the eerie noise echoing on the wind.  “We were born as beasts,” he began slowly, stormy orbs finally rising to meet his lover’s sapphire stare.  “From the ashes of destruction, clawing and tearing our escape from the womb.  Two souls who were created to watch the world burn in our image.  But Dean, oh Dean,” Bray muttered, a sad smile gracing his somber features.  With a rueful shake of his head, he continued, “We were never meant to walk the Earth together.”

“And fate is trying to bring us closer… while tearing us apart,” Dean softly finished, years of his lover’s ramblings culminating in a forceful slap to the face.

The men let the realization wash over them like the gently falling rain.  Oh, what a confounding situation.  Two lost souls longing for the same slice of the saccharine forbidden fruit, the taste so sweet and tantalizingly tart on their tongues.

“Abigail tried to warn me, Dean,” Bray began, orbs gazing longingly into the auburns own gems, “but I am nothing more than a fool.”

The thunder cracked overhead, Zeus’ weaponry piercing the swirling sky in jagged lines.  The rain ebbed off into a light drizzle, pools of fresh tears collecting at their knees.

“What do we do now?” Dean whispered, thumbing away the briny streaks that rolled down Bray’s flushed cheeks.

The larger man sighed, nuzzling into the intimate caress and placing a chaste kiss to his lover’s calloused palm.  “I don’t know.”

An odd warmth filled Dean as Bray’s lips connected with his flesh, radiating something so inconceivably electric, not unlike the lightning cracking above them.  In a flurry of ardor, he surged forward, bringing their chapped mouths together in a soft, sweet kiss.  And oh, how the eternal flames of their star-crossed love burned, the cinders of fate falling around them like virgin snow.  The Moirai be damned.  Who are they to decide your destiny?  What gives them the power to control each breath you take into your lungs, each notion or thought to spin through your brain?  When do we take control of the reigns, to steer the ivory steed of our lives through the tunnel, only to emerge into the light of dawn?  Don’t let them clip your wings.  Instead, extend your downy feathers and soar off into the great, wide unknown, the cold, steel chains of fate shattering and dropping to the Earth below as you ascend toward the heavens.

The pitter-patter of Mother Gaia’s sorrow ebbed off, dots of pearly liquid splattering against the once sun-parched soil in patches of shining constellations.  The once-turbulent wind hushed to a whisper, low rumbles of thunder dying to a barely audible hum.  Dean reluctantly pulled back from the liplock, a broken sound of protest gurgling up from Bray’s raw throat.

“The wind guided me to you,” Dean began, his lips barely a whisper against his lover’s own trembling set.  “It called my name, leading me toward the unknown, but I’ve known all along, Bray.  It led me straight into your arms.”

A bright grin plastered itself across Bray’s bearded face, and he nodded in excitement.  “Yes, dove.  I have also felt its pull.”  He leaned forward, recapturing Dean’s lips in a heated kiss, reaching out to wrap his inked arms around the other man’s slim waist. 

They melded together like smooth honey, as strong as steel, as warm as the ocean’s current.  Oh, how free they were, as if the nagging itch across their shoulder blades erupted, the reddened skin parting as bone reformed, twisting and pulling to reshape itself.  To burst forth in a spire of ivory, downy feathers sprouting like spring blossoms, fluttering in their first breaths of life.  Like two pieces of an intricate jigsaw puzzle, they clicked in resolution, their bruised and battered souls combining to create the most breathtaking picture.  They had finally found completion, had finally reached the forbidden treasure, had tasted the biblical fruit of knowledge.  It was as if thousands of years of understanding had filled the empty voids of their minds, replacing the hollowness inside with a multitude of deep, irrefutable understanding.  And oh, how their love grew as the world fell around them, leaving an empire of glittering ashes in its collapse.

“Dean,” Bray whispered, pulling his lover into his chest, the gentle beat of his reawakened heart pressed against the auburn’s ear in a symphony of devotion.  “Let’s go home.”

In the moon’s endless struggle to capture the sun, there are but a few moments when the heavens part and the two become one.  When the moon shields the sun, allowing its splendor to shine only for the stars.  When the glowing orbs of cosmic dust twinkle around the pair in their celestial embrace, a mystifying sight as they glimmer in jubilation as Mother Gaia’s guiding beacons intertwine.  Even as the sun dominates the sky, its rays of golden light pouring over the Earth in a flood of warmth, the moon is never far behind, keeping dutiful watch of its mate.  Each morning, the moon is relieved of its duty with a gentle push toward its own heavenly bedding of constellations, a promise of evening on its heart.  An eternal cycle of tag, until those few precious moments run through their celestial fingers like the fine sands of time.


End file.
